


Through Wounding

by plusVICE



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Season/Series 08 Compliant, Whump, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plusVICE/pseuds/plusVICE
Summary: After a mission goes a little worse than expected, Shiro tends to his partner.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45
Collections: Sheithlentines 2021





	Through Wounding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [standaarsh (kalis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalis/gifts).



> For Standaarsh as part of the Sheithlentines 2021 event!

It was supposed to be a simple mission, all of them were supposed to be. Keith had begged, as close as his will could manage, pleaded with the top Blade leadership to allow Shiro to join him. He wasn’t Galra, and he wasn’t light on his feet, but he was Keith’s right hand and the upper brass knew that. They had seen how the two managed to function as one, aware of the other without the smallest of glance. So even if Shiro had two left feet they made an exception. Shiro was Blade Backup of sorts. Keith would still work his solo missions as solo missions, disappearing for stretches at a time, only coming up for air, bruised and haggard, when the job was done. But between those Shiro and Keith would work as a pair. Diplomatic meetings were a little easier when he had Keith on his arm and mapping missions felt like little more than long road trips when he was listening to Shiro’s stories.

It felt right, different from how he had felt on Earth. After the war, Shiro just didn’t feel like he could stay there any longer. Old memories became fresh wounds and the dust hanging around the Garrison bit at him in a way he could no longer tolerate. He had to leave. And Keith took him.

This latest mission was supposed to be a simple one: remap a continent on the Northern Hemisphere of a terrestrial planet. As quintessence began to flow freely through the universe, many planets began to experience topographic and geologic changes. New plants, new animals, new terrain and new relationships between the three. The Blades wanted to keep ahead of any brewing conflicts, calm any festering wounds and predict the disputes, so Shiro and Keith were assigned these mundane scouting missions. Shiro would fly the two of them to a far away planet, quiet and still. They would touch down, search, sample, take off and repeat the process until they had a representative look at the planet. In and out. Over and over. The two of them exploring the universe.

They reached their newest planet and began the process again. First, a fly over in their ship built for one. The craft was fitted with cameras underneath allowing a quick comparison of the surface to the previous scans on record. The planet was a deep brown on brown, most soil devoid of any grass-like foliage.

_Beep._ Shiro looked over before turning his attention back to his controls. Neither of them were scientists, but Keith knew what they were looking for. Keith had spent years in space. They both had in their own ways, but Space had freed Keith. Shiro would never forget the last time Keith had returned to Earth, before he had taken Shiro with him. He had found Keith leaning against a hanger wall, hair loose from his braid and talking to his mother. As Shiro approached he had heard it—their own language, so casual and soft that he had been stunned into silence.

_“Shiro?”_ That smile, so small yet radiant. The smallest bit of tooth showing such a new development that it still caught Shiro off guard. He had leaned down to kiss that space. He couldn’t help himself. What a gift.

_“When did you learn that?”_ Just another peck for good measure. _“The...Galran?”_

_“Oh. Started on the whale. There wasn’t much else to do. I practice with The Blades now.”_

_“I like it.”_ He had missed Keith. Missed him so much. So deep in his bones that he had confessed after Keith’s first return to Earth. He couldn’t let him go another moment without knowing how much tender space he occupied in his heart. He had told him then and every day since. Perhaps the incessant calls when Keith was undercover greased the wheels that brought him into The Blades.

“Set it down right here.” Keith highlighted a spot on their screen, a few hundred yards from the main water source. 

“Scared of the wildlife?”

“Yeah.” Keith would get his humor eventually. Shiro put the ship down where he was asked and stood up to check his equipment. They were traveling light, standard Blade armor and non-projectile weapons. No camping gear and all rations stayed on the ship since they were never away from her for more than twelve hours. 

The routine was normal by now. Shiro, always a soldier, fell into the motions like he had been doing it for years. The first to the bay door checked their corners to make sure nothing had snuck up on them since landing. Nothing ever did. Then they’d travel single file, swapping positions as they went. Covering corners, heel to toe, eyes on the ground and in the sky. Natural, fluid, a perfect pair.  
They arrived at the gash the ship had locked on during their flyover. It was deep, curved, grown over in places by trees that looked too old, out of place. The far edge of the cut just kissed the edge of a lake so that a small flow had formed at the bottom.

“What do you think, Shiro?” 

“It looks too clean to be a meteorite and any body large enough to create this should leave debris. Maybe an error with our scans. Take the standard samples and head to our next stop?” He didn’t wait for a response. This was their standard procedure. Shiro knelt down and collected the soil, some cuts from a tree, and placed them in his pack while Keith stood over him. In all likelihood this was like other planets they had encountered. Expanding, once again understanding quintessence, trying to find something close to its true shape. _“They’re rehydrating,”_ Shiro said when they had first encountered one of these stretching planets. Keith had laughed at that one. The two of them had been taking a long sip after a longer hike. It had been so genuine. So light. Keith had never been like this at the Garrison, on the Castle, back on Earth after all they had been through. There was something about being out here, alone together, that let Shiro really see him. Keith was blossoming with The Blades, doing a bit of his own rehydration.

“You know...I think we should ask Kolivan if—”Keith...sat on him? Pressed a hand to his neck and squatted so that he was crouching low over his back. Shiro opened his mouth to make a snide comment, to try this joke thing again, when he saw Keith pull his blade. 

They were big, moved like cats, built like hogs. Big hogs. Bigger than any hog he’d seen back on Earth. Their smooth gaits carried them across the edge of the tree line with a grace that almost distracted from the four sets of trucks jutting from their head.

“Keith.”

“Run, Shiro.” And then he was falling. Keith had hooked his ankle and tipped him into the gorge. Shiro dug his hands into the soil, soft and slick, slowing himself until he flopped to a stop.

“Keith!” He yelled into his headset as he tried to get his feet underneath himself. No reassurance came over the headset instead Shiro heard the squealing from above his head. Squealing and clanging and the sound of so many feet upon the ground. When he pulled himself above the ridge the area outside the forest was silent, one body on the ground.

“Keith? Keith, where are you?”

“Ship! Get to the ship, Shiro!” His voice barely came over the comms, hidden under the snap of branches and animals screaming. “Away from the trees!” He tried to take a moment to search the mud, figure out which direction Keith had taken, before giving up and sprinting along the rim of the cut in the ground. 

Everything was too loud. Suddenly he couldn’t pull on his training. He couldn’t take in his surroundings or watch his footfall. He needed to get back to the ship, to turn on the console and find Keith. The mud caked on his boots as he sprinted, stealing all traction. He tripped and tripped and continued to trip because he refused to fall. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if the sound of snapping was underfoot or coming closer with every second. His lungs burned. He needed to focus, to pace, but he couldn’t stop panting— _Keith, Keith, Keith._

The clearing around their ship was quiet, only the whistle from his lungs reaching his ears. Shiro engaged the hatch to the ship and tried his communicator again.

“Keith?”

“…Shiro.” He tapped the side of his helmet, desperate to enhance the faint sign of life. He was alive of course he was alive. There was a reason Keith had been accepted into The Blades, had climbed their ranks, had enough weight to throw around to get Shiro this appointment.

“What’s your position?”

“Down here.” His feet and eyes darted from side to side before Shiro looked at the gap under the ship’s hull. There he was, comical if Shiro’s adrenaline wasn’t still cutting off his air. Keith was wedged under the ship, barely visible in all that mud. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, how about you, Keith?” Maybe he wanted to shake his head, but all he managed was a shift in expression. A twitch of the lip giving away that things were more dire than usual. The situations they found themselves in, when the routine became a little less routine, were never too dire. Tenuous diplomatic ties crumbling around them, pirate ambushes, sudden discoveries of large cashes of illegal _and_ deadly imports—they had been through it all but even when they were pinned down it never felt dire. It never felt grave like the way Keith wedged under a cruiser, covered in mud up to his pinched eyebrows felt. “Let’s get you out of there.” 

Shiro apologized as he pulled him by the arms, Keith huffing with every tug. Even caked in debris the area of injury was obvious: The Blade bodysuit was doing its best to stitch back together around Keith’s left calf. The fabric was dark and messy in a way the rest of the mud soaked suit didn’t match. 

“Even and deep breaths.” Keith took the direction without a second command, closing his eyes and focusing. Shiro rearranged him by the hips, close enough to the ship that he could prop the injured leg along one of the struts. Shiro hesitated a moment before using his weapon to tear through the thin martial of the suit. The blood made an audible noise as it hit the ground, still warm as it ran over Shiro’s hands. He used part of the suit he had cut away to apply pressure to the wounds. His hand couldn’t cover them all.

“How bad am I lookin’?” Shiro couldn’t muffle the tut that left his mouth any more than Keith could silence the huff that left his own as more pressure was applied. 

“Shiro.” He patted Keith’s hip, tried to settle them both with a little contact. It was nasty. Deep cuts and punctures, some overlapping, and in certain spots a view to the bottom. Even with years of field training between them, it wasn’t something they should be handling. 

“I’m not a little kid.”

“Pretty bad. Nothing looks broken.”

“You can tell?”

“Unfortunately.” It was tight, but the smile was reassuring. “Let’s get you inside.”

“Hurts real bad.” Quiet, an admission for himself and Shiro if he wanted to hear it.

“I bet.” 

“Don’t wanna move.”

“I can carry you like a princess?” Keith’s breath rattled as he propped himself up, pale around the edges in a way Shiro hadn’t seen before. He took his hand and most of the weight from his injured leg. Keith hopped alongside Shiro, eyes closed, as they made their way inside. Shiro sat Keith down on the edge of their shared bed as he jogged for the medial kit.

“Shiro, I gotta lay down.”

“I know. Give me a moment.”

“Gotta lay down.”

“Okay, okay here we go.” It was awkward and painful. Shiro did his best. Keith had already managed to force the mud soaked suit down around his shoulders. Shiro took over. He knelt and pitched Keith over his shoulders so the rest of the suit could be pulled and peeled to the knees. And before he could protest, Shiro’s hands were cupping and lifting Keith off his feet. 

It wasn’t graceful but he managed to position Keith on his back without knocking his leg. Their shared bed was small, a bunk meant for one like the rest of the ship, tucked so deep into the wall that Shiro had to bend in half to avoid knocking his head. “I’m going to report in. I think we’re done here.”

Keith turned his hand palm up and Shiro grabbed it and didn't remark when Keith squeezed back. When they first met, it had taken Shiro a while to catch on to understand that Keith wouldn’t call for him. So Shiro reached out. Touched him when they were close, laughed so others could hear, and took every silence as an opportunity to tell Keith how much he was worth, especially to Shiro. 

After his palm was warm from shared heat, Shiro did report in. The base knew they would be coming in late with an injured member. He then took a moment to dig the blood from under his nails and formulate a plan. There was nothing Shiro could really do. Keith’s wounds were deep and Shiro wasn’t a surgeon. Field medicine would have to do and that meant packing the wound and keeping the pressure on. Keith would be light-headed and drowsy but he’d make it back.

“Okay let’s see what we can do for you, Mr. Kogane.” The medical kit was larger than the kind Shiro was used to back on Earth, the kind that they kept around the Garrison to stay up to code but never planned on using. He wasn’t even sure they were full. The gloves in the box were of a variety of shapes and sizes, none of those shapes seemed human. This wouldn’t be the first time—not even the first time today—he’d be covered in another’s blood. He just hopped Keith wouldn’t mind skin to skin contact of this sort. 

He pulled his blade again and cut the rest of the undersuit, so it fell away from the injured leg. “How mad is Kolivan going to be about this?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. He’ll get over it.”

“Tell me a story, Keith?”

“Just do it. I don’t need a distraction, Shiro.”

“Always a hero.” He settled between Keith’s legs, his head bumping the roof of their bunk.

“I—”

“I’m teasing.” Releasing the makeshift compress showed that most of the heavy bleeding had stopped, a few of the more stubborn wounds dripping on the blanket that was bunched at the bottom of the bunk. Shiro flushed the wound with the bottles they used for drinking, unsatisfied, unsure he was dealing the correct remedy. An animal bite was an animal bite but maybe an alien animal bite was different.

“—I fought one of those things before—a few phoebs ago—before you joined. They spit. Burns bad. Sticks and doesn’t come off no matter how you scrub. Didn’t have time to explain. Didn’t want you to get hit.” Shiro refilled their bottles and flushed the wounds again to be safe.

“You did good today, Keith. Saved my ass.” It seemed like a smile, like it was supposed to be a smile, too weak to pull tight at the corners. He was bleary, eyes hooded, on the edge of consciousness but hanging on for Shiro’s sake. Keith was always a trooper for him, keeping him calm when he felt the world shift around his ears—in and out of battle.

“Hold still—” Shiro wet the gauze he’d use to pack the wound. There was no easy way to do this so he was going to do it as quickly as possible, “—as still as you can.”

He pulled back the edge of the largest wound. It was deep, red, angry, but also clean. The edges were smooth, the result of a single slash. He’d ask later but Shiro knew that it was the only hit the animal had been able to land. 

He forced the end of the gauze down by the bone and continued to pack it in. Tight, not too tight, tight enough to keep the bottom of the wound dry until they could get back.

“Breath, Keith.”

“I’m breathing,” he huffed. It was good work if Shiro was looking at it objectively. He had managed to pack the entire wound without stopping. Tight, quick and clean like he wasn’t developing a headache from clenching his jaw. 

“Onto your side.” Keith rolled away from the wall half under his power, half under the power of Shiro arranging his hips, so the leg would remain stable. The wound on the back of the calf was deeper, nastier but not as viscerally upsetting. Shiro continued to roll Keith to his front, he would need leverage. He spread the wound with his right and pressed with his left. Pressed all the way down to the bottom, to the second knuckle. Keith jerked, rumbled, made a sound somewhere between a cry and a scream but Shiro continued. It was good work. He was doing his best work. He was going to make sure Keith was taken care of like Keith had always done for him. Like Keith had done for him today.

The other wounds were deep but manageable by regular dressings. He started above the knee padding and wrapping as he made his way down the leg. 

“That wasn’t so bad was it?”

“Crashing to Earth _was_ worse.” Shiro pushed at Keith’s hip again, moving him to his back. He gathered the stained and soaked blanket and tossed it to the floor before retrieving the spare, and a pillow, from the closet where the medical kit had been stored. 

“Take a nap. We’ll head out after.”

“Not tired.”

“Keep me comfortable while I nap?”

“Old man.”

“Geriatric.” Shiro gently tugged the little Blade into his place on the outside of the bed before crawling in over him. He stuffed the pillow under the beaten leg to keep it elevated before tucking them in.

“Just like old times....Great having you back, Shiro.”

“Great to be back. Missed this.” He tried to find his hand, to thread their fingers, and settled on a single arm embarrass, Keith under his chin. “Missed you.”


End file.
